


pulse

by xivz



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bad Flirting, Blood, Blood Drinking, Blood and sex, Boys In Love, Dry Humping, Established Relationship, Idiots in Love, Love, M/M, Orgasm, POV Simon Snow, Simon Snow is Gay for Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Vampire Bites, Vampires, first bite, simon is a snack, thirsty vampire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:33:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29842272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xivz/pseuds/xivz
Summary: This wouldn't be an issue if Baz weren’t such a twat. He’s hungry, and I’m offering. Really, there’s not much to think on.Or—the one where Baz is starving and Simon is a willing blood bag.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 26
Kudos: 147





	pulse

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BazzyBelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BazzyBelle/gifts).



> Big thank you to my beta **[sconelover](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sconelover)**!
> 
> This fic is for BazzyBelle, who is very dear to me and deserves all the nice things.

The atmosphere is so thick that I could probably slice it through with my sword. (If I still had my sword.) Baz is glaring at me with narrowed eyes, looking at me as if I’ve grown an extra head. As if what I just said was entirely too preposterous for him to even handle. (It wasn’t.)

My idea is a sound one and it’s a good one and he’s just being ornery. So, I try again, because I’ve never been one to back down. Especially not from him.

“You can do it, you know.”

“I’d rather not.”

“Don’t you want to?”

“ _ No _ .” Liar.

“ _ Baz _ .”

“ _ Snow _ .”

“Oh!” I sit up straighter as I stare at him from my spot on the sofa. I can feel my face heat up in a flush that’s steadily crawling down my throat towards my chest. “I see, you’re worried that I’m just that delicious.”

He’s worried that he won’t be able to stop himself. (He worries about everything.)

“This discussion is over,” Baz says as he gets up from his seat on the armchair. He brings his hand to his mouth and begins to bite at his thumbs cuticle. I can’t help but watch the movement. Watch the way the tendons in his hands move and the bones of his wrist jut delicately. Study how his muscles move under his pale skin. 

“Baz, I  _ want  _ you to bite me,” I say. My therapist says that communication is key, that saying what I want is important and stating my needs is a must. So, here I am, doing as suggested, and getting rejected all the same. I nearly want to throttle my boyfriend.

We’re alone in the flat. Penny and Shepard are stuck at the Bunce’s until further notice due to the weather.

There’s a blizzard going on outside—has been for several days now— and Baz hasn’t gotten to drink blood in a while (he ran out on day two of the storm because I didn’t have the forethought to stock up prior.) (Baz blames himself for not double checking his supply; we’ve argued about it twice already.) He’s probably ravenous. Frankly, I’m impressed by his willpower—he hasn’t even pretended he was going to bite me. The butcher isn’t open, and the stray cats are likely holed up somewhere to keep warm from the weather. Baz is beginning to look gaunt, with shadows under his eyes and madness starting to rear its ugly head. He’s having difficulty staying awake for long periods of time and has a stiffness to his movements that reminds me too much of rigor mortis.

I watch as he clenches his jaw and swallows. The lines of his body are sharp enough to cut through the skin. (Because he’s starving and stubborn, and he’d rather die than drink from a willing source.) 

“Look,” I say, trying for a different tactic. “It’s not as if you’ll Turn me. I’ll make more blood, and you won’t die or go insane with bloodlust. Be reasonable.”

“Reasonable? Bit rich coming from you,” Baz narrows his eyes at me. They’re no longer the pretty colour of the ocean during a storm, but  _ black _ . So black that they cause him to look less human and more vampire than ever. 

“You know there’s an issue if I’m the one saying that, mate.” I shrug as nonchalantly as possible and lean further back into the sofa cushions. Though my heart is pounding, and I’m sure I smell of anxiety and hope. Baz can see right through my bluff. 

“Don’t call me that.”

I ignore him, because in some sense, he is my mate. (I can’t help thinking about that sometimes, how he’s probably my soulmate. How he’s who I chose and who I would always choose.) (I wonder if I’ll ever have the courage to tell him that.)

“You should take advantage of the situation.”

He doesn’t justify that with an answer. Instead, he sneers at me, teeth on full display. It’s what made me proposition him, to begin with—his fangs came out earlier and refused to go back into wherever they come from. Granted, it’s a sexy look. (Seriously, he’s so fucking hot.) But it has me worried for Baz, because, despite how cool and collected he may act, he’s ravenous. This makes him a danger to himself because he's an idiot who is willing to look a gift horse in the mouth and refuses to drink from me.

I lean forward, placing my elbows on my knees and peering up at him through my lashes. “You’re hungry. What do you plan on doing if you don’t feed on me? Are you going to find some unsuspecting Normal instead?”

(The mere idea of Baz drinking from a stranger causes my stomach to twist unpleasantly.)

“No.” 

Baz’s gaze is narrowed in on my throat, probably watching as my skin skitters with my pulse. (I shouldn’t find this attractive.) He looks desperate and bites his lower lip as my heart rate speeds up a little at the attention he’s giving me. He can probably smell the beginnings of my arousal. (I’m disturbed.)

The silence between us stretches. We’re both stubborn and we both tend to dig our feet in and stand our ground. But this is a fight that I know I’ll win. He has no other choice.

I can tell when Baz’s will gives out. His shoulders sag and he curls a little in on himself, almost as if trying to make himself look smaller. His body is shapeless and fully covered in a baggy wool jumper and fleece joggers with warming socks and a beanie. (I haven’t seen Baz wear any sort of hat since sixth year, when we no longer had to wear boaters at Watford.) 

The tips of his fingers are beginning to turn purple due to how low his body temperature has dropped, even though I’ve got the heating in the flat uncomfortably high. 

“I’ve never—” Baz stops; swallows, and looks away from me. “I—”

“Stop being stupid and come over here,” I say. “Please?”

He walks to me slowly, as if he can barely handle his own weight. (He’s become weaker than I initially thought.) Still, regardless of near-stumbling, he’s graceful. Like oil sliding over water. Poised, light on his feet, a pure predator. I should be terrified, but I’m not, because it’s  _ Baz _ and I’m desperately in love with him.

Baz deposits himself on my lap, strong thighs pinning me down on either side. My hands rest on his hips on their own accord. I like them there; I like Baz here, on me, allowing his weight to settle and straddling me. He feels real like this, like something even more impossible to ignore. My tail wraps around his ankle as my wings settle comfortably behind me.

He sighs and leans forward, his long-fingered hands moving from my shoulders to my jawline. I shiver at how icy cold they are against my skin, which causes him to pause. 

“We shouldn’t do this.” Even his breath is cool. 

“Don’t be a numpty,” I say. 

“You’re such an arse,” he says.

“I love when you talk dirty to me.”

“Idiot.”

Baz’s hold becomes firmer, though his hands are trembling. He moves my head back, exposing my throat to him. His nose is pressed against my skin, inhaling deeply, seeming to relish in my scent. I can’t help the spike of  _ want  _ that courses through me at that.

I tuck my hands under Baz’s thighs and pull him closer until he’s flushed against me. I leave my hands there, cupping his bum. It’s firm and lush and honestly? I enjoy whenever I get the chance to touch it. 

Baz huffs a soft laugh against me, “incorrigible,” though his voice is shaky and the anticipation of everything is driving me up the walls. “Last chance to back out, Simon.”

His teeth graze me as he speaks, and he’s so close, so fucking close. I squeeze at the swell of his arse and grunt in annoyance. “Just do it already.”

“Fine,” Baz says. And then he bites me. 

I gasp because I suddenly can’t breathe. The rush of endorphins has me rutting upwards without any sort of control over my body. I am nothing more than base instincts, needing to be touched, wanting any sort of contact that is being given to me. 

Baz’s mouth is latched tightly onto my neck and he’s moaning as he drinks deeply. It’s almost like an open-mouthed kiss. His tongue laps against me and his hands find their way into my hair. Keeping me in place as he drinks.

“Oh fuck,” I moan, “oh  _ God _ .” 

Baz is whimpering as he begins to grind down, meeting my hips, giving me the friction that my body craves. I can feel him hard against my pelvis, and suddenly wish that we were naked. This would be so much  _ better  _ without any clothes on.

Still, the pleasure of it all is overwhelming. I can feel it in my fingertips and down to my toes. I’m an electric circuit. I’m a live wire ready to go off at any moment. My nerves are exposed and Baz knows just the way to stroke them. 

Each swallow of my blood sends another shockwave through me and I’m loud about it. Uninhibited. (My neighbours probably hate me right now.)

“It’s so good, baby,” I say. My mouth is babbling a bunch of nonsense, and my eyelids keep fluttering, and my body hasn’t stopped moving for a second. “Don’t stop. Don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

I’ll die if he stops. I’ll bleed out until I’m nothing more than a husk of who I am. I’m nothing without him right now. I’m giving him life and he’s making me feel so alive. My hands are crawling up the back of his shirt and I’m grabbing his hips hard enough to leave bruises. I can feel the way his skin is starting to warm under my grip.

His scent is heady and his body is just the right amount of weight on me and his arse is sinful and the way he’s lapping at me—

I’m a bow about to snap. Almost there, just a little longer. Almost,  _ almost _ ,  **_almost_ ** _! _

“ _ Fuck _ !” I cry out as my body begins to shake with the force of my orgasm. I nearly drown in the feel of it. I’m still moaning and thrashing and my trackie bottoms are sticky and soggy against me, but Baz keeps going until I’m overwhelmed. Until everything is just  _ Baz _ . It’s too good. It’s too much. It’s so fucking amazing. 

I can feel when Baz cums. His thighs shake and his breathing becomes short and his grip in my hair tightens until it’s almost painful.

When he’s done he stops drinking. He licks at the wound as he pants helplessly. I know that the area is going to bruise, and probably look like a dark hickey while it heals. (I’m more than okay with that.)

I’m sagging against my wings and the back of the sofa in a way that should be uncomfortable, but I’m too boneless to try and readjust. Baz slowly releases my hair from his hold and moves his hands back to my shoulders as he pulls away from me a bit to look at me. 

I can’t help but stare openly at him. His skin is flushed a lovely pink, and his face looks almost as if it’s filled in, though his bone structure is still the stuff of envy. His eyes are still dark, but I can make out the ring of grey around the pupil, and his mouth is nearly scarlet. 

“Wow,” I say. I can’t help it. He’s beautiful, the loveliest person I’ve ever seen in my life. My eyes wander over his face, up to his hair—which looks more lustrous than it was a few minutes ago—down to his throat where I pause. 

There, at the base of his neck, I see it. His skin is fluttering, slowly but still moving. 

I push myself forward and press my mouth against Baz’s steady heartbeat.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi to me on **[tumblr](https://xivz.tumblr.com/)**!


End file.
